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I don’t know why you, and I butt heads so often. Why I feel like the connection wire of our relationship seem to have some chewed-up marks. 

I feel so guilty for not having all the time in the world for you. Your requests are so simple, too. 

I don’t mean to use your sister as an excuse, but this whole ‘mommy’ thing with ‘two kids’.. I’m still trying to figure it all out. With the third one coming, I’ll probably get worse, before I get better. 

I need you to trust me, I need you to give me a chance, to give me the benefit of the doubt, that I’ll figure this thing out, with us.

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I’ve probably made all the mistakes with you, and now it seems like I’ve been unfair to you. But I promise you, my love for you then, now, tomorrow has been the same since you gave me the title, “MOM”. 

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You are so much like me, more than you want to be, more than you’ll ever be like you’re daddy. I’m sorry you’re more like me than your dad. Maybe we wouldn’t butt-heads so much. I appreciate you for all that you are. In times when it’s not chaos and arguments, you are everything amazing. 

You’re kind. You’re sweet. You’re thoughtful. You’re generous. You see things in ways, most people are too blind to notice. Your voice, speaks not just with volume but with character. Your heart is pure, and humble. You are everything, any parent would hope their child to be. I hope you never loose that, because of my shortcomings. 

You have the humour, the wit, the smile, the heart. 

Thank you for being so good to me, when I don’t deserve it. Thank you for ‘understanding’ me, even when you don’t, really. 

I hope, I don’t screw you up too much. 

xoxo, Mom.

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Here’s my open letter to you.

“An understanding mind, may categorize the reasons you had to give me up. An understanding mind, may have been able to give you peace about the decisions you’ve made. 

Time, and time again, I wonder.

I wonder, why? I wonder, how?

I’m now a mother of two, and a third one, on the way. I wonder, if I ever felt the poverty, the unfairness of life, the unluckiness, the inabilities; even half of what you felt, would I have done the same..oh wait…

I know how it feels to struggle. To live, paycheque, to paycheque with a child. How worrying it is to not know where, or how the rent was going to be paid, or any of the bills, for that matter. I know how it feels to buy just enough for what we need because..LIFE!

Would I have given up as easily, as you did? Would I have not tried? Would I have been able to look at my child for the last time, and spend the rest of my life, however, wherever, not being able to look at my kids again?

I wonder, would I have the strength to give them up? Could I have done it?

It isn’t a matter of strong hearts, strong minds, or greediness. 

I could’t. I wouldn’t. I am greedy for it. But I would have died trying to survive, to GIVE MY CHILD a future, MYSELF. I would have died, with them in my arms. 

Maybe I’m stubborn. Maybe I’m irrational. Maybe I’m illogical. 

How could you? Why didn’t you become better, and came back for me? Why wasn’t I enough? What you thought was best for me, also left me in the long run. Are you still proud of your decision? 

The root of the anger, the root of the sadness, the root of my shortcomings, the root of things that I never came to know, and learn, is because you left. I can’t seem to shake off the feeling, the resentment..it eats at me, when the moment presents itself. When those moments arrive, I lose grip of what I’ve worked so hard to mend. All the pieces I’ve managed to glue back together, shattered again.

Now that I’m older, it haunts me more often. It breaks me, more often. It kills me, more often. While I use the happiness, of the blessings that have come from it, I still find myself lost, unable to let go.

You left me, when I couldn’t yet cry out to you. You left me when I couldn’t yet say to you, I’m worth it, just give me a chance. You left me when I couldn’t yet, tell you I can eventually help us. You just gave up.

You just left. And now I’m to just accept it?“

………..

We Broke Up

In keeping up with the trend of this gloomy day, and sad blog posts, here’s another for ya.

I recall just turning ten, before the summer time and soon a new school year would begin. Two different people, with two different personalities would collide, and an outcome inevitable for greatness. It was ‘98, when I first met you. Ms.Young’s class. You sat in the second row from the door, at the end of that row. You never raised your hand to answer her questions, nor did you speak much unless spoken to. I often laid my head on the side boards by the door. My row consisted of Mark Purdy, and he was my only friend in the beginning of the school year. He wore these green, plaid pants all the time, with a green knitted sweater. Looking at him, reminded me of Christmas all the time!

Recess, I’d try to cross paths with you, but you had built roots and friends with people I have yet to figure out. I was the one looking in from the outside, even though I was the loud and obnoxious one between us. I wasn’t shy to approach you. Perhaps a game of tag was how we finally became friends. But those memories are sometimes a blur in my mind. We were inseparable. We were together before, and after school. We walked to, and from school together. We shared lunches, clothes, pencil crayons, markers, everything we obsessed about as children.

As time passed, I noticed an undeniable consistency. I was always the one in a rut, problematic at home, outside of home, and in life in general. You always saved me, even if it meant saying sorry for my faults. But we’d soon drift because High School came, and grade nine would pass. It was only the inevitable that we would split-up come grade ten. You found new friends. Different types of friends. Friends I couldn’t belong with.

It would take losing something special to you for us to get back together. I guess we were both just used to me losing all the time and if it ever was you, it would be a lot harder. That time was rough. It was hard. It still is and I get it. But time is passing, things will never be the same. To subconsciously dwell, and find yourself no where, with no passion, just riding on temporary waves, and fake romances, would never get you out. It would never change your life. You wouldn’t see better things, you wouldn’t experience greater things. To be still, and to have your feet planted where it’s hip deep, would never give you the life you can have. Is it so bad to want more?

We’ve drifted yet again, because our lives are just too different and we’ve just moved on. Lets be honest. Let’s be truthful, we don’t love each other the way we used to. We don’t yearn for the same type of relationship we used to have. Our differences is no longer, what brings us together. I say things, you listen. It gets boring, when I’m the only one ever trying to make sense of things. The effort is there, from my part. But you’re stuck in some depression, I can’t pull you out of. You give no effort, you give no importance, you show no tries, then what’s the point?

Goodbye, we’re broken up.

​xoxo, MM

Who’s Chasing you?

I have spent a crazy amount of time chasing after people in my lifetime. Never having the satisfaction of knowing if I’m ever enough for anyone.

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The funny thing about losing people in my case is, I’m never the one who chooses to walk away. I’m always left with having to, because there’s nothing else to hold on to.

“How disappointing. I wonder what, where I went wrong in that one?”

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That’s my father. He adopted me at eight months old; a private adoption. Tracking any history is a lot harder that way, or, maybe I’m just not sure how to get to it. 

For the most part of our relationship it was awkward and uncertain. I spent the first three years with him, until he moved to Canada without me for six years. In those six years, I became my own person, who saw the world as my enemy. I had no one. Lived with people who had to, because I was “family”. Imagine a child, uncertain of what it means to be loved and to countlessly rely on nobody because they just weren’t mine to rely on. I finally met up with him again, and things were surely where he left off. I didn’t know him, just photographs he’s consistently sent me to “never forget” that there’s supposed to be someone keeping time with me. He’s taught me good things, but where he lack was the nurture I have now learned being a parent, myself. 

I haven’t spoken to him in over two years. It’s been three Christmas’s without him. He’s never met Arty, and have forgotten about Apollo. 

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​He posted this today, it translates:
“It hurts to think that because of that one thing that happened it can no longer be the same as before between the two of you”

I’ve called in the last two years, numerous times to reconcile what has been broken because he’s my only immediate family and the truth is, being a mother I’ve learned that love is indeed unconditional. It’s not longer the way it used to be when I was single and I was selfish and I thought that when people walk away from you, you just gotta let it be. That you’re not losing anything or anyone because it’s their right. But families come with a certain rule. A rule that  no matter what, you can’t be broken. Sometimes you can disconnect, like with many other things in life, but never with family. But in this case, when you disconnect, there’s no turning back. It’s a shame because he’s always been one to hold grudges. Time will lose, time will turn, time will come and I wont be chasing it no  more.

xoxo, MM

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